Cracked
by KawaiiLions
Summary: Drunken nights at the bar were always Bri's escape from her abusive relationship with Javier. But what happens when the Nightmare King himself changes her into something a bit more sinister after a night of drinking? What happens when Bri is left to fend for herself, and this new craving of hers? And a handsome stranger with a dark past? I guess we'll find out. M for language


"Tell me, why are you here?" He cooed. The drunk girl cackled, and took another swig of her drink. The night was alive. "I wanted to get away," She slurred, wobbling slightly on her stool. They had been drinking heavily for an hour or so, and she was wasted. The girl, Bri, could see him. He had no clue why, but she could. He'd learned she was here, drinking away her pain. Apparently, she lived a mile or so from here, and she usually came here for a cocktail, but nothing serious. But tonight, had been different. Tonight, her 'boyfriend' Javier, had slapped her around a few too many times. She'd feld, and come here to use a phone, and find a place to stay for the night, for she was scared to go home. Pitch ran a hand down her back, and smiled. "You could stay with me, you know." He whispered into her ear, seductively. She shivered, and nodded. Apparently she was a laid back, horny drunk. She stumbled along, tripping on her sweat pants every now and then. She was very attractive, with big grey eyes, and dark brown curls, thar touched her heart shaped face. You could say she had a nice body. Wide hips, slender shoulders, and delicate hands. She seemed to good to be true, for any man. They made it to the house on the corner, surprisingly, she didn't notice that the home wasn't there before. He opened the door, and she fell onto him. She giggled, and straighened herself again. "Sorry." He nodded, and grinned. "So, you're not going home?" She smiled, shaking her head. "I'll just take off." He almost screamed 'Perfect!' but he contained himself. She swayed back, and forth, and he caught her. "Here, allow me." In one quick movement, he bit down on her neck and she let out a bone splintering scream. Then, a stony silence. The girl went ridgid in his arms, and he cackled. "Welcome to the Family, Bri."

Her large, now black, eyes, opened, and she blinked. She felt drowsy, and a little stale, but refreshed. She realized slowely that she was on the ground, and her back hurt. She sat up, remembering a few things. My name is Briar. But I prefer Bri. I am nineteen years old. I thirst for flesh and blood. She growled audibly, thinking of that sweet necatar that flowed from only one place. Humans. She leapt to her feet, and soon, she was running. Running like that animal she now was. The scent was strong now, there must be people near by. She was correct. Approaching a campsite, she stopped, the natural instinct to stalk prey coming over her. A small group of men sat by a cooler, talking, and laughing. She inhaled, and the smell of blood being turned dark red from oxygen made her mouth water. She was tired of waiting. She pounced, grabbing one with by the neck. The others screamed, and scattered like roaches. She snarled, ripping at his jugular. He silenced, and she ripped further at him. Swallowing, drinking, and finally, tossing him to the side, Bri smiled, satisfied. The others had returned, guns in hand. She simply smiled, silencing them too.

((Two years later)) Bri sighed, taking another sip of coffee. She opened the novel she'd been reading, and hopped into a world were Prince's killed the Queen to better themselves in the Kingdom. She smiled, as she turned a page. There was a thumping, and at first, the girl could ignore it. Until it got louder. She looked up, irritated. A boy, looking around the age of twenty, stood near her. He had shoulder length black hair, and scarred cheeks. You had to search for the scars, but they were present. He also had dark shadows around his eyes, like he was tried. She pursed her lips, wondering why he'd interrupted her. He chuckled, looking down. His voice was low, and very... raspy, to her surprise. Like he'd been screaming. Maybe he had.

"It's new years and you're in reading glasses, and sipping an ice coffee." He sounded like he didn't want to start a conversation, he was just making an observation. She was taken aback. No one ever talked to her. Ever. She had to think of what to say. Finally, she sputtered.

"Yes. Why?" She was shocked at herself. She couldn't even remember the last person she'd had a conversation with someone, let alone found them attractive. He chuckled.

"You have to be maybe nineteen. You're acting like you're fifty. Okay, I'm gonna cut the horse shit, Gypsy!" He called, and the heavily tated, pierced woman who was the bartender, came over. She squealed when she saw the boy.

"Jeff, holy shit." He grinned, and Bri noticed a sharp canine.

"The regular for me, and something fruity for the little old lady." He pointed to Bri, and grinned. The woman, Gypsy, cackled.

"Aw, Jeff always joking the fuck around. Sure. One whiskey for you, and something 'fruity' for my cute little regular over there. Gotcha." She whisked off, and Bri turned to him.

"Oh, so I can't handle whiskey?" She wasn't smiling, actually, she was offended. He turned to her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Fine, you take the whiskey, and I'll drink whatever lime and strawberry trainwreck Gypsy throws together." He said it with finality, and she nodded, just as dominent. She didn't need 'soft' things. She could handle herself. He nodded, swiveling in his stool for a moment. He looked to her.

"So, you're the dark, mysterious girl, who hides away in this little bar, reading away the world, and when a guy gives her attention-" She interrupted.

"No, I just don't like to be bothered. And I'm not dark and mysterious. I'm reserved."

"Reserved? Another word for virgin." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lite one. Gypsy returned with their drinks. "Enjoy." She took to the other side of the bar, and began serving other people. Jeff looked at the fruity disaster in front of him, and groaned. "To a new year," He seemed to say to himself. Bri couldn't help feeling he meant something more. She turned to him.

"Your name is Jeff? What's that short for? Jefferson, or...?" Bri wanted to know more about him, before she started drinking around him. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.

"Jeffrey. It's short for Jeffrey." He took a swig of the drink, and ashed the cigarette. She oved over to where he was sitting, and took a drink of whiskey.

"Well, I'm Bri. And I'm kind of an asshole, sorry." He laughed, looking to her. "Kind of?" She punched his arm, blushing a grey. "Don't push it." He examined her face, and looked shocked for a moment.

"You're a Pasta?" He asked lowly, looking over his shoulder. Her eyebrows came together. "What?" He pointed to her cheeks.

"Grey. Bri, your cheeks are grey. You are blushing that color because your blood is black, the marking of Pitch. The Nightmare King." He said it with such confidence, that she almost believed him.

Almost.

"How do you know this?" She asked, immediatly panicking. She had pushed down the memory of Pitch for all this time, and this guy was not about to ruin that. He moved a piece of hair behind his ear, and sighed.

"Give me your finger." She did so, suddenly regretting it. He took out a pocket knife from a hoodie pocket, and pricked her. She squealed, and a small drop of what looked like black ink, leaked from the hole. She was astonished. He put the knife away, and looked at her.

"Check mate," He said, before getting up, and exiting the bar.


End file.
